


The Big Apple's Big Secret

by Arnirien



Category: Role-Playing Games, Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Aztec Mythology - Freeform, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Hindu Mythology - Freeform, Incan Mythology, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Original Character(s), Persian Mythology - Freeform, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnirien/pseuds/Arnirien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Learning you're the child of a god is shock enough. Discovering Fate has a stranglehold on your future is something else entirely. But when these six scions get together, they just might figure this divine nonsense out. Oh, and save New York City. That would be good, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Apple's Big Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my collaborator, D, for entrusting their characters to me to include in this story. Without their passion and patience it would never have been written.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Scion Role-Playing Game is owned by White Wolf Publishing Company. I have rights to nothing. I just write (and play), with deep appreciation.

Thursday’s newspaper headlines were inconsequential. The front page was a sea of photographs from one of those tiresome Hollywood award shows. A heat wave consumed the Midwest, driving crop prices up. In the mayoral race, one candidate was trying to look innocent while his party vilified the opponent’s wife for choosing the wrong philanthropic efforts. Xavier meticulously reassembled the newspaper. He stared into space a moment, absently smoothing the still crisp folds. His brow knitted, and he shoved the paper aside. His father had instructed him to be vigilant, but seventeen days after landing in New York City, his efforts had uncovered nothing.

Xavier surveyed the cafe from his corner table, scanning the room over his cup and saucer. The early morning regulars had come and gone already. By 9:15 the professional crowd were safely tucked in their cubicles. The next rush - the harried business folk convincing themselves that eating the shop’s little sandwiches instead of proper lunches made up for their sedentary lifestyles - wouldn’t arrive for another two hours. It was this liminal, unpredictable morning period which Xavier considered most important to observe.

Promptly at ten, the two elderly gentleman from the apartment complex across the park ambled in, collected their two coffees, black thank you very much, and settled themselves at the chessboard. Xavier enjoyed overhearing their conversations, and more than once caught himself distracted by planning strategies to best them at their favorite game.

Not long after, a cherub-faced young man in an ill-fitting suit crossed the threshold. He stepped confidently up to the counter, ordered six distinct, needlessly complicated beverages, emphasized to the barista that they must be “hot as hell,” and moved down the line to gaze longingly into the pastry display. His eyes darted over to Xavier twice, three times. Xavier arched a brow. This informant had no talent for subtlety. The man approached, sank heavily into the empty chair across from Xavier. He mopped a sweaty hand across his chin. After a moment’s pause, Xavier ventured, “Well?”

“The Ventura case took a turn. She’s claiming infidelity now, too.”

“I see. The Dicillos?”

“Still considering the merger. They haven’t told Gloria anything.”

Xavier nodded, not quite making eye contact. The barista called out “Paul!” and the young man jumped up as if stung. The legs of his chair clattered against the floorboards. He spun round, gawked apologetically at Xavier, who gently assured him “It’s all right” and offered his hand to shake. The fellow took it and somewhat clumsily pocketed the folded bills that passed between them. Then he gathered up his coffees and headed for the door.

The door swung open with sound of ringing bells, and a man’s clear voice carried over the music playing in the shop. “Here, let me.”  

The young man with the coffees rushed out with a mumbled “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” the clear voice answered. The sincerity behind the usually cursory reply caught Xavier’s attention. His interest was piqued even further when he saw enter the shop first not the owner of the voice, but a woman.

She strode in confidently on heels that would make a model hesitate. Half her dark hair hair was swept up in a loosely coiled bun, while the rest hung down over her shoulders in soft waves. Her flowing maroon dress displayed muscled arms and shoulders. Her features were exquisitely proportioned - regal nose, full lips, bright eyes with long lashes.

She glanced back, tucked a stray lock of hair behind an ear. “Thank you, Amos.”

“My pleasure.” The owner of the clear voice stepped into the shop and paused beside her. He stood two inches taller, and wore a grey jacket that fit well, but had seen better days. Their eyes met momentarily, then both parties looked away.

“Shall we?” Amos gestured forward.

“Of course.”

Xavier noted Amos’s local accent, his companion’s decidedly foreign one. London, perhaps? The two wavered on the edges of each other’s personal space - newly acquainted, Xavier guessed, but with a powerful draw between them. Casually reopening his newspaper, Xavier peered over it to watch the couple approach the counter. The woman promptly ordered a latte, but hesitated over which pastry to add. She bent down to peer into the case, eyes flicking from one fresh baked delight to the next with youthful joy. Xavier saw how a slow smile crept over Amos’s face as he watched his companion struggle to choose.

These two were something different, something anomalous. Xavier closed his eyes a moment, focused his energy. When he opened them again, the ordinary colors of his surroundings in the shop were muted, and his suspicions were confirmed. Amos and the woman were each outlined in a shimmering golden haze. Xavier noted the separate glow emanating from a silver ring on the woman’s right hand, and light shining from Amos’s eyes and peeking out from under his collar. The woman finally pointed at a pastry. Armed with her slice of pound cake and Amos’s regular coffee, the pair strode to a table by the front window. The woman sat down gracefully with her back to the door, crossing her legs neatly. Amos set his beverage down, then excused himself to collect cream and sugar from a table near the front counter.

Xavier watched as Amos rejoined his companion and the couple began a quiet conversation. Eavesdropping proved difficult, but the woman’s voice carried just enough over the coffee shop’s mood music.

“One brother,” Xavier heard her say. “Oscar. He works out of Paris, but he travels a lot. You?”

Amos shook his head.

“Lucia!” the barista called out, setting a cup on the counter. Amos rose before his companion could, waved away her protests with a smile, and retrieved the drink. Sliding back into his chair, he set the cup down before her. Lucia laid a graceful hand on his wrist.

“Thank you,” she told him. Their eyes met and held, until the ringing of the bells over the shop’s entryway broke their shared reverie. They both looked away - Lucia down at her latte, Amos out the window.

Xavier’s attention shifted to the two young men newly entering the shop. One was surrounded in the same soft golden glow that still lingered around Amos and Lucia. His hair and eyes shimmered especially brightly. The boy’s taller companion had a college ID swinging from a ring of keys at his hip. Both of them had dark hair growing just beyond the confines of a practical cut. They stepped up to the counter and counted out change from their pockets to purchase muffins and coffee. They plopped down around the nearest table, in the center of the room, sliding backpacks underneath at their feet.

“If I read one more page of Kant, I swear my brain will fall out,” college boy was saying.

Bright eyes smiled and leaned back jauntily in his chair. “Would you say you... _can’t_ take it any more?”

“Adam!” his companion groaned, chucking a straw at him.

Adam deflected it, laughing, then asked, “You feel good about the midterm, though?”

“Yeah, Dr. Burns is tough, but at least she’s fair. I’ll squeak by.”

“And the paper?”

“Look, I don’t wanna think about the paper - it’s not due for five weeks! Jesus, man. Now about your deck…”  The two boys’ heads fell together, and their conversation sank low.

Xavier marveled at the impossible coincidence of it all. Never before had he encountered so many beings touched by the divine in one place. In fact, he could count on his fingers the number of times he’d seen such people at all. Three other special individuals all coming into the same coffee shop could hardly be an accident.  Surely these were the people Heimdall had sent him to find. Thinking swiftly, he weighed his options. He could try to approach them separately, or catch them as they left the shop. He could be candid and explain his situation, or…

Xavier’s considerations were interrupted by the appearance of yet another person who glimmered in his divine sight. The redhaired young woman swirled into the shop, with nearly a dozen brightly colored shopping bags hanging from her arms. She wore trendy sandals with a brightly patterned dress, and a pair of oversized sunglasses threatened to topple off her head. As she struggled with the wide clearance the many packages required, she bumped into Lucia’s chair.

“Oh, sorry!” The redhead chirped, sidling away.

Lucia pursed her lips, but waved a casual hand and mouthed, “No worries.”

Xavier put off making any move until he could observe this newcomer. The redhead gaped up at the drink menu, fumbled trying to reach into her purse while keeping track of all her parcels. Her eyes fell on the pair of boys hunched over muffins. “ADAM!” She gasped. The shimmering boy looked up.

“H-hey, Connie,” he answered, but she was already talking over him as she approached.

“What a coincidence, running into you here! How have you been?” She didn’t pause for an answer, but continued chattering as she tucked her bags under, on, and around his table. “What a week I’ve had! You wouldn’t believe the deals.” Her eyes settled on Adam’s companion. “I’m Connie!” she explained, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Jack.” he answered.

Connie favored him with winning smile, then said, “Gimme just a sec!” She set one last, particularly heavy-looking parcel on a spare chair, and spun away to the counter.

Xavier marveled that both these pairs of divine people already knew each other. His own encounters with gods and their children had been cursory. He would have to approach these strangers carefully. Being outnumbered might even prove dangerous.

Connie babbled away to the barista, whose forced smile gradually gave way to a genuine one. Jack shot Adam an inquisitive look.

“I know her from high school.” Adam said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Jack cocked an eyebrow and made a crude gesture.

“No!” Adam protested, pressing a hand down over Jack’s and glancing around the room. “We had Chemistry together.”

Jack glanced over at Connie. “I’ll bet you did.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

Connie fetched a straw for her frappuccino and poked it through a generous portion of whipped cream. She strode back to the boys, set a banana down on the table, and settled herself on a chair. “So,” she began, looking at Adam intently, “what brings you two here?”

A beat passed as he did not reply.

Jack cleared his throat. "Well, midterms are over,"he said. “Finally. Adam here's keeping me company for a few days."

Connie looked from one boy to the other. "Ohhh, right." She leaning back in her chair, beaming at Adam. "What have you been up to since dear old Southbury High?"

Adam’s response was drowned out by the jingle of the bells over the door, and the chatter of the newcomers it announced. Three elderly ladies approached the front counter. They spoke loudly and repetitively into each other’s good ears, weighing the dessert options and bemoaning the state of their blood sugar levels.

Xavier realized that if he wanted to hear any more of the divine children’s conversations, he was going to have to make a move. Anything he could learn about them before having to reveal himself would prove useful and lower his risks. Slowly he set down his newspaper and rose from his chair. Cradling his coffee cup in his hand, he took the few steps to the counter and reached for a wooden stirring stick. He lingered a few moments, twirling it between his fingers.

Connie pulled the spare chair with the heavy parcel closer to where she was sitting. She peeled the banana, casually breaking off chunks and then slipping her hand inside the bag. “Retail can be such a drag,” Xavier heard her say, “At least I get a wicked discount at H&M. I’ll have to build myself a second closet soon. Well, I’m kind of living in one myself for now. But things are going well. I’ve scoped out a comedy club or two. The scene around here is incredible. One of these open mic nights’ll be my big break.”

“You’re into stand up?” Jack asked.

“That’s the plan.”

Xavier glided past their table, circled around the front counter to the table of sweeteners near Amos and Lucia. He set his coffee down and mimed adding sugar to his already perfectly mixed concoction. While his hands kept moving as a cover, he watched the couple with his peripheral vision and overheard their conversation.

“Had you visited the States before?”

“Just once,” Lucia said. “Last year I came over for an exhibition in Queens. They featured three of my pieces, and invited me for a Q & A. I only stayed five days.”

“How did you like it?”

“I wish I’d had more time. The spirit of any city is distorted when you only see it for such a short while.”

“But you’re glad you moved?” His tone was level, but his eyes betrayed the significance he placed on this question.

Lucia’s carefree smile faltered. She looked down, stirred her latte. “It was the best decision,” she said, nodding determinedly. When she met Amos’s questioning eyes again, her only elaboration was a new smile.

The bell over the entrance sang again, and the door swung open to admit another customer. This man was broad, athletic, with a honest, open face. He wore a longsleeved t-shirt and a Red Sox baseball cap. He walked directly past Xavier to the counter, where he patiently waited his turn behind the elderly women. Xavier was surprised to see that this man, too, shimmered with a golden glow. The newcomer in the ball cap slid a buzzing phone out of his pocket, pressed it to his ear.

“This is Matt,” he spoke into the receiver. “Oh hey, Tim!...uh huh...I’m just grabbing some coffee. Meet you at the stadium at six?...Right. Bye.” He looked around the coffee shop apologetically as he slid the phone back into his pocket, then relaxed as he noticed no angry eyes on him.

Xavier looked on as Matt ordered a simple black coffee, evoking a brilliant smile from the pretty cashier as she counted out his change. Noting that this stranger received his cup to-go, Xavier realized he needed to reach out to him quickly. If he were lucky, perhaps Matt would step his direction to add sweetener to his cup.  If not, he would need to -

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Xavier slowly lowered his left hand, returning the packet of Sweet-N-Low to the bowl. He inclined his head, then turned to see Amos standing behind him in a relaxed posture, palms turned slightly outward.

“I beg your pardon?” Xavier asked as he turned, eyes wide with practiced innocence.

“You’ve been watching us since we came in, and I’m quite sure we’ve never met. Is there something I can do for you?” Amos’s voice was calm yet firm.

Xavier’s mind churned through countless possible replies, weighing the merits of each. Buying time, he answered, “That remains to be seen.” He observed that Matt was still chatting with the cashier, but knew he might exit the shop at any moment. Xavier felt his control of the situation slipping. He looked back at Amos, who returned his gaze levelly. Their eyes held for a long moment. Amos inclined his head ever so slightly to the left. He was patient, Xavier realized, but had no intention of letting his question go unanswered.

“Forgive me,” Xavier said, relaxing out of the oblivious character he’d started to assume. He took a step closer, lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I believe our parents may have something in common.”

Amos’s eyes traveled down Xavier’s frame, from the deep red hair to the carefully pressed suit, manicured nails, and polished shoes. Amos’s casual attire, brown hair, and tanned skin were a significant contrast. With his gaze still lowered, Amos shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You and your companion both have...unusual origins,” Xavier pressed. Amos’s head snapped up, and he shot a glance over his shoulder at Lucia before staring hard at Xavier, who continued, “In fact, there are now six of us in this very shop with divine parents. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?”

Xavier saw hints of the wonder, fear, and indecision Amos was feeling play across his features. Here was a man accustomed to keeping his thoughts and emotions under wraps, he noted.

“Very.” Amos finally replied. His tone was neutral, but Xavier observed that he took a half step backward, and had begun scanning the room.

“Listen,” said Xavier, keeping his voice low. “I came here on a mission, with the sparsest of instructions: watch, wait, and gather allies.”

“But -” Amos began.

Over Amos’s shoulder, Xavier saw Matt approaching, heading for the door with his black coffee. He held up a single finger. “Hold that thought.” As Matt started to sidle past them, Xavier reached out and laid a delicate hand on his arm.

Xavier plastered a carefully constructed casual, open smile onto his face. “Matt, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“My friend here and I were just discussing how incredibly tough it can be having a god for for a parent. What are your thoughts?”

Matt started. His mouth fell open.

“EEEEEEeeaaahhhh!” A piercing scream reverberated in through the large coffee shop windows. Matt, Amos, and Xavier stared at each other in shock.

“What on earth was _that_?” said Matt.

“Come on,” Xavier darted out the front door of the shop, with Matt not far behind.

The two men came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk, taking in the hectic scene. Construction trucks had cordoned a section of the street and two workers in orange jackets were dashing toward a manhole in the center.

One construction worker leaned over the opening to the sewer. “Rob!? Rob, you okay?” she called down, her voice shaking. The sound of sloshing water was the only reply. The other worker gazed down the hole, then headed for their truck. Xavier saw Amos and Lucia peering out the window of the shop.  

A man’s voice called out from inside the manhole. “There’s something down here! You have to get me out!”

“Did you get the part?” A long moment of silence passed. Then there was another shriek, long, loud, and gut-wrenching.

Matt stepped past the construction tape, addressed the woman. “Aren’t you going in for him?” She looked up at him, puzzled. “If you don’t, I will.”

The male construction worker pushed past him. “Get back on the sidewalk, sir.”

“But-!”

“Now!”

Matt stepped back, glowering.

The worker climbed methodically down the ladder into the manhole. He emerged shortly thereafter, supporting Rob. The victim was pale, soaked through, and his clothes were torn. One of his legs was missing, severed just above the knee. Blood poured down onto the pavement. Xavier’s eyes widened.

“Pardon me.” Amos appeared behind Matt and Xavier, Lucia close behind. He shed his jacket, held it out toward her without looking. She took it, folding it carefully over her arm. Amos stepped over the construction tape without hesitation, deftly removing his belt. Rob was leaning against one of the truck’s tires, fighting for consciousness.

Amos stepped between the construction workers, instantly commanding attention and respect. He spoke softly to Rob, wrapping the belt tightly around his injured leg.

Amos looked over his shoulder a moment. “Lucia, 911, please.” His voice was soft and level.

“Right.” She headed back into the shop.

“Hey,” Lucia addressed the barista. “Call an ambulance, there’s been an accident outside.”

The girl behind the counter stared back at her, shaken and wide-eyed, wringing a dish towel in her hands. “Hurry!” Lucia pressed. “A man’s lost his leg!”

“I’ve got it.” Connie said, pulling her mobile out of her purse. She pushed a few keys. “Yes, hi, someone’s lost a leg outside.” She put her hand over the phone and mouthed to Lucia, “LOVE the shoes, by the way.” She spoke up again into the receiver. “Oh, we’re at Belle’s Coffee, on Green Street. Uh-huh. Thanks.” She set the phone down on the table. “All set.”

Lucia spun round and went back outside.

Connie shot a withering glance over her shoulder at the still-shaking barista. “Honestly, it’s just a phone call. Anyway,” she turned back to the Adam and Jack, taking a rare breath before a new river of words.

Before she could continue, Jack blurted out, “I’ve gotta see this!” and dashed for the door.

Adam stood and picked up their coffees. “Guess we’re going. Nice running into you, Connie.”

“Hey, I’m coming, too!” she shot back. She gathered her numerous packages, chucked her cup in the garbage, and hurried after them.

Outside, sirens were blaring. The ambulance was weaving through traffic to the scene. Amos still flanked Rob, alternately leaning close to his lips and speaking steadily into his ear. Paramedics swooped in, one quickly questioning Amos and the construction workers while two others loaded Rob into the back of the ambulance. Then in a flurry of flashing lights and whooping sirens, they disappeared around a street corner.

The workers spoke softly to Amos, gave him a towel to wipe the blood from his hands. When he stepped back across the construction tape, Lucia silently handed him his jacket and he shrugged it on. His shoulders slumped and his eyes were grim. He had been calm and collected during the crisis, but the stress of the event showed now.

“It was a lucky thing you were here,” Lucia said somberly, reaching out to set a comforting hand on his arm.

“A bit too lucky, I’d say,” Xavier interjected. His eyes met Amos’s.

“Come on,” Adam said, moving to turn Jack away. “Show’s over.”

“Didn’t they want the leg?” Matt asked, a little too loudly. “If it’s still down there we should-”

Amos cut him off. “It’s gone.”

“Gone?”

Amos ignored this question, looking sharply at Xavier. “What did you mean, too lucky? What do you know about all this?”

“Less than I’d like. Only that so many of us wouldn’t be here if this was just an ordinary accident.”

“Oh!” Connie exclaimed, “I’m not the only one with special powers, am I?”

Adam’s companion whirled to face him. “You didn’t tell me there were other people like you!”

“I didn’t know,” Adam answered simply.

“Hey!” Connie gasped. “When I squint you all sorta sparkle.”

Jack started.

“Not you, dear, sorry,” Connie told him apologetically.

“Hold on,” Matt stepped forward into the small circle. “What’s going on here?”

Xavier explained. “My father granted me the ability to see divine auras. It appears that Connie inherited a similar power.”

“So you’re saying we’re all children of the gods?” Matt pressed.

“Hey, now, hubris is a thing,” Connie said. “My dad may have magic, but I don’t know anything about this ‘god’ business.”

“Does anyone else wish to deny it?” Xavier’s questioning look was met with silence.

Then Amos ventured, “But _you_ were looking for us.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I was hoping to find others like myself.” Xavier said. “Yes.”

After a pause, Matt cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, “If this is some sort of preordained meeting, there’s no time to be lost. I’ll be the first to introduce myself. I’m Matt Brannon, son of Danu.” He looked for a flash of recognition in any of the others. Finding none, he sheepishly added, “She’s the Irish mother goddess.” He gave Lucia on his right an expectant look.

She shifted her weight, glanced at Amos.

“Hadn’t told each other yet?” Xavier asked gently. “Best get on with it.”

“Lucia James,” she finally said. Then after a breath, “Daughter of Shiva.”

“Shit,” Adam murmured, awestruck.

Amos reached for Lucia’s hand; their fingers intertwined. “I’m Amos Stern, and my mother is Mah.”

“Who?” asked Jack.

Well…” Amos began.

“Persian moon goddess.” Lucia interjected, and her expression darkened.

Then Jack nudged Adam.

“I’m Adam Amfeur,” he said, his voice low. “And my father is Mictlantecuhtli.” He let out a deep breath and grinned. “Oh, and this is my cousin - “

“Jack Marlowe,” he chimed in. “Son of Tim and Jean Marlowe.” He spoke with such exaggerated gravity that the others laughed.

“Well, I’m Connie,” she said, catching her breath. “And my dad lets me hide stuff and talk to monkeys.”

“You don’t know his _name_?” a scandalized Lucia asked.

“Well, no. He didn’t really say.” The finality to Connie’s tone allowed for no further questioning. She looked to Xavier, who was fidgeting impatiently.

“I have some urgent matters to attend to,” he said. “We should meet here again tomorrow. Does eleven o’clock suit everyone?" When no one objected, he handed a business card to each of them. “Take these. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call. And be careful.” He took two brisk steps away.

“Hey, wait!” Connie called after him. “This only has your initials on it. Aren’t you going to tell us who _you_ are?”

“Right,” answered, a slow half smile creeping over his lips. “Ben Yavin,” he said, squaring his narrow shoulders.  “Xavier Ben Yavin. Son of Heimdall.” He moved to turn away, his long coat billowing out behind him.

“Hang on.” Matt’s voice was quiet but firm. Xavier paused, turned. “You know more about this than you’re saying. If we’re supposed to trust you, how about trusting us a little bit first?”

Xavier hesitated, looking at each of them in turn. Lucia met his gaze levelly. Connie shifted her weight from foot to foot. Adam stared intently at the ground.

Finally Amos spoke. “I fear what happened here was no mortal accident. Rob described...a monster. And all of us being here to witness the aftermath…” He glanced down at the business card in his hand. “Xavier, what do you know?”

Xavier sighed. “Only that something is coming. My father sent me here to be watchful and seek allies.” He paused, and his keen eyes searched their faces. “I believe he may have meant you.”


End file.
